


Sheltered by fate

by soulhead



Series: Crossing path in every universe [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Apprentice!Lando, Fantasy AU, M/M, Prince!Max, but in this Lando is the prince in the shining armor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulhead/pseuds/soulhead
Summary: The house of Verstappen has fallen, the whisperers repeat to whoever is willing to listen, its last heir, Max Emilian has miraculously survived. Maimed, humiliated, scared, yes.But alive.And in his string of luck, he finds shelter in the house of Lando, a small town's hermit with eyes that shine with a benevolent and soft light that he finds too fascinating to look away from.
Relationships: Lando Norris/Max Verstappen
Series: Crossing path in every universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964035
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Sheltered by fate

_T_ _he house of Verstappen has fallen_.

It has survived frontal assaults against its walls, broken alliances and treacherous ambushes all across its land.

It had stood tall against the unforgiving passing of time, against storms of fire and thunders.

But ultimately, it has been the internecine wars that raged inside its own walls that had signed its own death sentence.

The house of Verstappen has fallen and the last heir, Max Emilian Verstappen, has vanished into the night, leaving behind him the ruins of what once used to be the most feared dynasty of the Solstheim's highlands.

 _The house of Verstappen has fallen_ , the whisperers repeat to whoever is willing to listen, yet Max Emilian miraculously lived. Maimed, humiliated, scared, yes.

But _alive_.

As he runs through woods and mountains, he does what he's been trained to do since the very first day of his existence : he survives.

And he wonders how many breaths his lungs will still allow him to take before his string of luck runs out.

***

Far away from the turmoils of the populated highlands, on the edge of the Great northern ocean, lays a small hamlet called Whiterun. In his frantic escape, the last heir of the House of Verstappen comes every day closer and closer to it.

His arrival will be either the sign of good or terrible fortunes for the small town that hasn't seen a foreign face in almost a year, when a mysterious young man had arrived. He had been the talk of the village for weeks on end.

Yet, if you ask any villager of Whiterun they will struggle to even remember that the man, almost still a child, goes by the name of Lando. Instead, they'll refer to him as the outsider or the foreigner. They will talk with a hint of distrust about his hooded figure and share the latest theories about his whereabouts at the village's harbor, before changing subjects and almost forgetting about him entirely once again.

And it's all Lando wants. An easterner likes him is a rare sight on these unhostile regions. The people of this village craves quietness and peacefulness above all, for the turmoil of the inner lands, where fratricide wars rage endlessly, are never too far way. And if his months on the roads have taught him many valuable lessons, none have echoed into him as much as the art of going unnoticed and the importance of hiding his origins. People imagine wealth when they see easterners and covetousness only ever brought misfortune to Lando's life.

And so, living on the edge of the village, he splits his days between taking care of the small head of sheep he owns and classifying in his index every new plants he comes across in the lowlands. His thirst of knowledge, brought on by his time as an apprentice in the art of Alchemy, seems to be unquenchable in this land populated with too many unknown species. Consequently, even when his backpack is filled to the brim, he carefully unearths plants after plants and thinks of their possible incorporation in new recipes for his healing ointments.

One after another, his days pass without perturbation and it's only when the sun finally descends low in the sky that he returns to the warmth of the house he's established himself in since his arrival in the region. The house, mostly nothing more than a dusty old shack, creaks with every guffs of winds that hit its wooden walls. The small chimney at the center of the single piece of the house does just enough to host a fire that warms his tired hands and allows him restful night of sleep. It's all that matters to him.

On a few occasions, when the glacial winds burns into his skin and a thick layer of snow has draped over every hills and dales to even entertain the idea of staying more than five minutes on the outside, he seeks the knowledge of the owner of the small village's harbor. The peculiar man, who bears the name of Sebastien, is the only person to whom he's willing to drop his hood and reveal the inked markings on his face, the telltale sign of his easterner's heritage. He doesn't know how to explain it, but there's an aura of kindness surrounding his friend and his secret feels safe in Sebastian's hands. Besides, Sebastian's eagerness to have finally found someone interested in his endless rambling about his old expeditions doesn't allow him to bother himself with any invasive questions about Lando's own whereabouts.

Routinely, Lando asks about the Dakkar sitting at the harbor, imprisoned in a sea of unbreakable ice for too many months this year. This same boat that should have taken him to Arandor, an uncharted land that promised him to leave his troubled past behind him, had this winter not postponed indefinitely his plan for months on end.

Unbeknown to Lando, this was not just bad luck that had him stuck in this small village in the midst of nowhere.

No, it was Valdir herself – the goddess of fate – that worked tirelessly, for his trip to Arandor would have to wait for now. Lengthening the winter was only one of the many tricks she had to use. She twisted paths to lead any soul in search for a haven directly to Whiterun, bargained with all the other nine divines, all of that to allow the two humans under her protection to meet.

And finally, after months of efforts, they did.

***

For their meeting to occur, all it takes is the appearance of first gust of gentle breeze to warm Lando to the idea of exploring the small mountain behind the village. In the middle of the unforgiving winter of the region and with a thin layer of ice covering its every rock, to ascent the mountain seemed too dangerous.

But now through, as the spring finally arrived, Fate made sure Lando noticed on the bottom of the mountain a blooming Nightshade – a plant so rare it was believed to be extinct for decades – and suddenly, climbing up the mountain became an idea far too enticing for Lando to resist.

A few days before the fateful day he chooses to carry his small expedition, Sebastian had worryingly insisted he took Falion, his old guard dog, alongside him to ward off potential predators.

Lando had accepted his friend's offer, refraining himself to tell Sebastian even rabbits wouldn't be frightened by the sight of the old limping dog.

At first, his small expedition is more than fruitful, his bag filling itself with more new fascinating flowers than he has ever seen before.

But then, as he's scrutinizing a deep red root he almost fell on, he hears the dog barks distantly. Lando has barely the time to turn to his direction to see his tail disappearing behind the nearby wood. Dread fill him instantly : trolls and wolves will only be too happy to prey on the old dog and bringing back the Falion's carcass to Sebastian is the last thing he wants to do.

«Hey ! Falion ! Come back !»

When he distantly hear a whine from the dog, he leaves all his belongings behind him and runs toward the noise. He difficultly navigates through thick bushes before he catches sight of Falion, moving anxiously and whining at him with his ears flattened.

«You ! Don't scare me like that by running off !» he admonishes before he tries to decipher what seems to be causing the dog such an anxious behaviour.

Next to a big stone, almost hidden behind a few bushes lies an unmoving form. A gasp escapes his mouth as he steps carefully closer to it and his suspicions are confirmed. It's a man, covered in bloody gashes. Small clouds of condensation exits the man half open mouth, meaning the man is still breathing, albeit painfully. All of his instincts tells him to leave the man alone, to run away from the trouble and pretend he did not see anything.

Yet, he cannot help but feel pity for the man's destiny if he leaves him in agony and he forces himself to take a few steps to approach. Suddenly, a branch cracks under his feet and the man's eyes suddenly open, startled by the noise and disoriented.

«He-Hel-» The man tries to say through his breath. His eyes are unfocused, a delirious light shining into them.

Lando rapidly takes his own scarf to wrap it around the still bleeding wound on his arm. After checking the man for other injuries, he notes too many of them. Some superficials, like multiple gashes of what must be either swords or knives, others more important like the deep wound on his arm or the sickening angle of his right leg.

As carefully and as quickly as he can, he tries to find a solution to carry the man who has now gone unresponsive. After trying multiple ways, he somehow manages to secure the man on his back.

If at first he is surprised by his own strength, he quickly realizes the man's emaciated figure must help.

The man's light weight facilitates his descent to join his home, but it's not long before Lando's every muscle starts protesting against the additional weight he is carrying.

When he finally arrives at the door of his house, he realizes he's never been that grateful to have isolated himself at the edge of the village. More suspicious looks than he'd like would have arose if anyone saw him carrying a unconscious body to his house.

Once inside, he carefully puts down the man on his own bed and quickly retrieves healing ointments, bandages and a basin of water before going back to the bedside of the injured man.

The man doesn't react and he starts untightening carefully the tourniquet he made around the man's arm to disinfect the wound and treat it as best as he can. His own fingers are trembling and it dawns on him on out of his depths he feels. The quietness of Whiterun definitely has put a damper on his ability to handle stressful situations like the one he's faced with. Suddenly, in a abrupt movement and before he has time to react, the man moves and he feels a sharp, cold dagger pushed against his throat.

«Where am I ?» the ragged voice of the man demands, panic evident in his voice.

«Please ! I was only trying to help you !»

After an awfully long second, the man asks warily «What is in your flask then? Were you trying to poison me ?»

«No ! It's just Jerall's roots and essence of Namiras, to help your wounds fight infection ! I swear, I wasn't trying anything ! I'm an apprentice in alchemy, I don't want to cause any harm to anyone !» he rambles frantically, his voice becoming embarrassingly high in his panic.

Fortunately, Lando progressively feels the hold of the man untighten, before he's freed entirely. His heartbeat still beating deafeningly in his chest, he hastily takes a few steps away of his aggressor before hearing a metallic noise. The man has dropped his dagger on the floor, raising his hands in surrender before being visibly hit by a wave of pain.

«Be careful !» Lando warns as he comes to the help the man who stumbles to try to get back on the bed.

«Wha-What's your name ?»

«Lando, and yours ?»

«Max Emilian. But people just call me Max. Th-Thank you then Lando, I own you my life.» Max says solemnly as he bows his head in gratitude.

Lando's already restless curiosity spikes, there's an air of nobleness around the man that tells him he isn't a simple hunter or nomad. He bites back the questions that burn his tongue, knowing it's not a simple coincidence that neither of them gave their family name.

«I-...I was going to change your bandages. Can I ? Or you'll try to eviscerate me ?»

Max doesn't answer, only grunts before he lays himself back on the bed slowly. His head feels like it could explode with how feverish he feels. Lando offers him water and he accepts it silently, drinking as if he hasn't crossed a source of water for days. Once his thirst seems calmed, he lets himself be looked over by Lando.

And while his healer carefully inspect his wounds and clean each of them, Max's eyes never leaves Lando's face. There is many questions that turmoil in his brain after weeks of running through the lowlands, panic and fear clogging his orientation sense : How far away from his home is he ? Has any news been circulating about Solstheim since his departure and how many weeks have passed ever since ?

Yet, he finds in himself no force to speak any more than he has already done. Instead, he settles himself to revel in the momentary feeling of safety he experiences. It's not long before he feels himself falling asleep as a set of warm blankets is laid on his body.

The following morning, he wakes up with the distant song of birds reaching his ears, a deep sense of calm washes over him. It's been too long he hasn't woken surrounded by the comfort a bed brings. Not daring to move, he waits for his host to come back and occupies himself by observing his surroundings to learn as much as possible about his host. A small part of his brain tells him Lando could be a spy and could have already run off to alarm his enemies of his position. Yet, this suspicion is quickly pushed away when Max takes in his surroundings. The house he's been brought to is small, every plane surface covered by an array of books in varying state of decay. At the center of the piece, a small table is covered with parchments and what must be the remains of the man's breakfast. The only organized place on the room is a small corner where a dozen of flasks are sorted with small label on them.

His string of luck hasn't run out, he ponders, being saved by an erudite versed in the healing arts.

Then, it's not long before he hears soft steps approaching and the door opens slowly. When Lando sees his eyes opens, he immediately starts fretting over him, asking him dozen of questions about his current state.

After a small breakfast consisting of oats and an apple, the only thing his weakened stomach can support, he and Lando discusses for a bit. He learns the name of the small village his run lead him to. Relief fills his heart when he understand he went far beyond the frontiers of Solstheim. He then listen curiously as Lando explains to him in great details the index he is writing and how he was busy documenting the region's flora when he stumbled upon him.

Afterwards, Lando starts to change his bandage of the night.

«Thank you for not asking any questions.» Max whispers tiredly once Lando is finished.

 _I would have had to lie to you,_ he leaves unsaid.

«No it's alright, I already know what happened anyways.»

A hint of fear flashes through Max's eyes before he asks carefully «Really ? How ?»

«Well it's obvious. A simple look at your wound tells me a bear with....» Lando pauses for a second «multiple...knifes attacked you ?»

Max's laugh at his poor attempt of a joke before scrunching his face in a expression of pain as he holds his sides painfully.

«Sorry, sorry ! Shouldn't have made that joke, you're not allowed to laugh until your ribs are healed !» Lando says worryingly.

«Not your fault !» he coughs and waits for the pain to pass.« How long you think I've got before I'm healed ?»

«Well, when I found you your leg was almost bent sideways so don't expect to go galloping any time soon in the woods, especially not with the fever you have right now.» as he speaks, Lando doesn't miss the way Max's face visibly pales and the tense look on his face. It's the look of someone who hasn't been able to afford to stay in the same place for too long.

It's a look Lando once had, before he reached Whiterun.

As he tries to find reassuring words, he realizes Max's eyes are slowly closing themselves already. It will take a long time before his patient will be able to remain awake for the duration of a day, Lando worries and he suddenly feels startlingly alone. Ensuring his patient heals correctly weight heavily on his shoulders.

Days starts to pass in a blur afterwards. At first, it's mostly due to the fact the passage of time escapes Max who doesn't stay awake for more than one hour at a time. Lando, for all his youth, is a remarkable healer and to Max surprise, the longer he is able to stay awake, the more he finds himself deeply at ease next to Lando.

There's something unexplainable behind the way the younger man's soft voice guides him through the worst of his fever and how having Lando fretting over him by his bedside profoundly appease him.

Confined in the small house at first, he progressively regain part of his forces and can (not without having to withstand a great amount of pain) walk with a cane to go outside. He never goes far away, only makes 10 to 11 steps on his own before he needs the help of Lando to steady himself on his shaky legs.

Yet, those steps are enough to allow him to reach the small bench just outside of Lando's home. The rocky landscape surrounding them and the yellow grass at his feet reminds him almost painfully of the Stronghold of Chorrol and the institute in which he received his earliest teachings.

When Lando surprises him one day with melancholia written all over his face, he's at first worried the injured man has been hiding from him another injury.

To appease Lando's worry, Max tells him about the institute, a place that stayed so close to his heart despite the years passing by. Of course, he stays vague enough in his tales to not mention his lineage, old reflex dying hard. Lando listens intently as Max remembers fondly the education and affection he received there. He speaks highly of the drawing and painting lessons he received by one of the scholar and the stark contrast of what he would experience under his father ruthless supervision.

The following morning he wakes up once the sun is already high in the sky, to the sound of Lando preparing himself to go take care of his head of sheep.

«Oh, Max !» a smile instantly appears on Lando's face once he notices he's awake «I went to the market this morning, I bought something for you and left it on the bench ! See you in a few hours !» he says before exciting the house in a hurry.

After a quick breakfast, Max curiously exits the house to find a pencil and a notebook laid on his bench.

With trembling hands, he takes both objects in his hands and observes them almost reverently.

His heart fills itself with a gratitude he didn't know he was capable of feeling.

And when Lando returns from his errands, Max's bruised right wrist has already started to hurt once again after filling his notebook with many little sketches of the landscape surrounding him. He doesn't mention it, only smile widely at Lando who looks in interest at his first drawings.

As the days pass and his body recover ever so slowly, he starts drawing the mischiefs the head of sheep is causing around the house, the shivering yellow leaves of the woods surrounding them and the sea that he catches Lando observing pensively every day. He even starts to draw his host, but keeps those portraits of Lando for himself, admiring how vibrant his eyes looks even through the stillness of his own drawings.

If he was still alive, his father would have snickered in distaste at him wasting his time for such a futile activity.

But his father his dead now. His words are no more and the poison they carried died with him.

And now, he's healing.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing an AU taking place in Fantasy universe like either in Middle-Earth (from the Lord of the Rings) or in Tamriel (from my two favorite games called Oblivion and Skyrim) was the very first kind of AU I ever wanted to write in any fics, but I somehow never got the guts to do it !


End file.
